


Throne of wood, eyes of thunder

by unicarna



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 00:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3269879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicarna/pseuds/unicarna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke has had enough of the Commander's elusive tactics and swaying loyalty. Deciding to give Lexa a piece of her mind, the talk doesn't go quite as planned (but perhaps just the way it's supposed to).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Throne of wood, eyes of thunder

**Author's Note:**

> Deviates from canon after the first scene in 2x10 where Clarke excuses herself from the room. Instead of being attacked in the woods she comes back after her walk to talk it out with Lexa.
> 
> Thank you sydneygirl1903 for the logical beta ;)

 

“ _Quint is right. Waiting for Bellamy is not a plan. It's a prayer. One that is not likely to be answered.”_

 

Clarke was furious. Lexa had supported her decision to send an inside man to disable Mount Weather's defenses, only to turn on her and agree with Quint. She didn't care about the Commander's reasons – this was a time for unity, not for arguing between themselves. Clarke thought that Lexa had understood that.

She walked through the now familiar forest with a forceful stride, pushing her frustrations into the damp ground. But it wasn't enough. New waves of anger replaced the ones she managed to let go of, and all she could see, all she could think of, was the way Lexa looked at her when she agreed with the hot-blooded warrior. It was almost apologetic, and for some reason that angered Clarke more than her words. She was tired of their game, of always being on the edge, constantly afraid to say the wrong thing.

She made up her mind and circled back to the village, determined to settle this once and for all. She would present her arguments one more time, and the Commander would see that it was the only valid option. But when she entered the tent and saw Lexa sitting calmly on the ridiculous throne, accepting a cup from Indra as if she didn't have a care in the world, something snapped within Clarke and the carefully measured words she had intended to say disappeared with the last of her patience.

 

“What were you thinking agreeing with Quint like that!? We need to show a united front to keep this alliance!”

Indra immediately stepped in front of the Commander, her face set in the firm, threatening expression she frequently wore. Lexa said something to her in Trigedasleng, and after a heated exchange she reluctantly left the tent, leaving the two leaders alone.

Lexa took in Clarke's angry expression. “He made a valid point, Clarke. And sometimes letting your people feel that they have been heard is the best option. We need a better plan.”

The unspoken jab at Clarke didn't go unnoticed. Her eyes shot daggers at the Commander when she replied, “It will work. We just need to give him more time...”

Lexa cut her off, “There is no more time. My people has suffered enough. Our army is ready.”

Clarke shook her head. “Do you even care for your people? All those that will die if we attack blindly? Oh right, I forgot. You stopped caring about everyone.”

An almost imperceptible tightening of her jaw was the only sign that Lexa was losing patience. “I am their Commander. My purpose is to lead my people to victory so that we can live to fight another day. We need to be strong and I do not wish for any of them to die.”

“And I am the leader of my people. _My_ purpose is to keep them all alive so they can _live_. I only left because I didn't trust myself not to say anything that would get them killed.”

“A wise decision.”

In one swift motion, Clarke moved to stand over Lexa, one hand on each side of the throne.

Clarke's voice was cold as she stared into the Commander's unblinking eyes, “One I did not make for you.”

Lexa's jaw clenched as she tried to contain an anger she did not understand. Her voice was low and threatening when she replied, “I don't require you to do anything for me, Sky Girl.”

 

Clarke's entire body was tense. Tense from anger at the woman in front of her, frustration at not being able to free her people, and from another, elusive emotion she was actively not examining closer. Lexa was infuriating. Her calm demeanor in all but the most life-threatening situations was something Clarke normally respected, but tonight her neutral expression crept under Clarke's skin like an itch, and all she wanted was to see it crumble. Her hand was at Lexa's throat before she could consider what an absolutely terrible idea it was to attack a commander of an entire army. Lexa tried to pull her away by the wrist, but Clarke was stronger in this position. The Commander's gaze bore into hers, stormy now, no longer indifferent. Clarke was pleased.

“There. Now you _feel_ something.”

Lexa flushed red with anger, her breathing quick and shallow through Clarke's tight grip. She seemed to struggle, for air or for words, before relaxing her grip on Clarke's wrist and saying quietly, defiantly,

“I never stopped.”

Something seemed to shift in the small space between them, and then Clarke's hand moved swiftly from Lexa's throat to her neck before crashing their lips together. It was too hard, everything but gentle, tinged with all the frustration she felt. And it lasted only a few heartbeats before Lexa pushed her away, hard, and she stumbled backwards, almost tripped over a table, and then the Commander was there, trapping her between the hard edge and her warm mouth.

Conflicting emotions rushed through Clarke until she stopped trying to make sense of them and they turned into hunger. Lexa's hands clutched her jacket, tearing the fabric and pulling them closer. There was no coming up for air, no stopping to search each other's eyes or smile shyly. Lexa _needed_ and Clarke _took_. She pulled the Commander's hips towards her own before her hands strayed to roam over a leather-clad back. When she didn't turn her head to give better access to Lexa's bruising mouth that had strayed to her neck, Lexa pushed her harder into the table and brushed her hand, feather-light, over one breast. Clarke yielded and scolded herself for the whimper she couldn't contain. So this was how they were going to work this out. Lexa pulled Clarke's jacket off of her shoulders and it fell with a surprisingly loud thud to the floor. For a second the sound made them both acutely aware of what was happening, but neither stopped what they were doing and Lexa resolutely reclaimed Clarke's lips as the other woman put a different kind of frustration into fighting the impossibly intricate fastenings of Lexa's clothes.

It was quick, rough and not very good (except in all the ways it was) but when Lexa finally clenched around her fingers, unable to contain a quiet moan, Clarke had to hide her face in the crook of her neck, unable to make sense of the sudden onslaught of emotions. For a moment she felt almost peaceful before reality crashed back in and she moved more forcefully against Lexa's hand to chase away the ghost of – was it tenderness – that lingered in the aftershocks that spread like tendrils of electricity through her hand.

She bit down on her lip when she came. Lexa kissed her and it tasted of blood.

It took longer than Clarke expected before their position, half-leaning against the table, became awkward. She turned away then, finding her jacket and closing the few buttons that had been undone. She heard Lexa move behind her, re-fastening her own clothes.

After waiting as long as she could, Clarke turned around. Lexa met her eyes, her blank mask back in place as if nothing had happened. She cleared her throat, the commanding tone almost hiding the vulnerability in her question.

“What will you do now?”

Clarke studied the Commander's face for as long as she dared, before coming to a decision and smiling slightly.

 

“Now we make a new plan.”

 


End file.
